


Strange Darkness

by Leio_Rossi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark John Watson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt John Watson, Imaginary Sherlock, John-centric, M/M, Moriarty is Alive, PTSD John, Panic, Poor John, Schizophrenia, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, schizophrenic! John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3944101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leio_Rossi/pseuds/Leio_Rossi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock fell, John began to see the detective everywhere, and the worst part is no one else could see him. With everyone seemingly after him, John finds comfort in the oddest of places: Jim Moriarty's  arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

While the shadows crossed the city buildings and the eyes of all were falling shut with sleep, a pair of feet scuttled through the dark streets, cast in the light of dim lit lamps, coat drawn up to his face. His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear and his shadow was the only thing that walked beside him. Or at least that’s what he tried to convince himself.

“You can’t ignore me, John.”

“You’re not real.”

“Yet here I am.”

John turned hesitantly to his right where the tall man was staring at him with keen eyes. It almost looked like he was actually there, not buried in the cemetery.

“You still don’t believe me?” Sherlock sneered. “Those doctors have been lying to you, John, for goodness sake. I thought you were smarter than those other imbeciles I’m surrounded with. I’m right here! Those so called doctors were hired by Moriarty. I’m not dead. It was all a trick.”

A magic trick. John thought bitterly as he remembered Sherlock’s last words.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” John choked as he briskly tried to walk away from him. Tears burned at the edge of his eyes and he wrapped his coat tighter around him as if he could guard himself from Sherlock that way.

“I’m not dead, John.” Sherlock hissed.

“Then why can’t anyone else see you?!” John screamed. A couple walking across the street paused in alarm and turned to John  
who gave them a wary look as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“John.”

“You aren’t real, Sherlock. You’re...”Dead. John couldn’t bring himself to say it, because maybe he wasn’t... But this version of him  
wasn’t the real one.

“What’s it like inside your small little brain, John? You know it, don’t you. I’m right in front of you. I’m alive; I’m real.”

John opened his mouth but was interrupted by a black car pulling up in front of him as he was about to cross the street.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock said darkly. “Come, John. We can go back to Baker Street and have a nice cup of tea.”

The door opened and Mycroft stepped out, quickly assessing the situation.

“He’s not there, John.”

“ I know.” the soldier said as he moved to go with Mycroft.

“John, you aren’t seriously going to go with him. He was the one who told Moriarty all about me. Do you honestly think he is doing this out of the goodness of his heart? He’s with Moriarty. He wants to kill you too.” Sherlock angrily shouted, and John took a step away from Mycroft as panic filled him.

What was he thinking gong with Mycroft? Moriarty had him in his hands. They were probably being watched right now. Just as he was about to run, Sherlock already reaching for his hand, Mycroft shook him by the shoulders and gently slapped him in the face.

“I need you to listen to me, John. I’m not your enemy. You need to breathe.”

“Let go of me!” John screamed, clawing at the hands holding him. He had to escape.

“JOHN!” Mycroft doubled over as he was punched in the stomach. Without wasting a second, John slipped from Mycroft’s grasp and ran. To where, he didn’t know, but he was getting there fast. He dodged past streets and jumped over a few fences

As he skidded down a back alley, his foot twisted and he fell, barely catching himself against the wall only to find himself looking at a gun barrel trained on him.

“Johnnie boy, what a pleasure to see you!”

John tensed, scrambling up against the wall to find Jim Moriarty being pinned to the wall by a man in all black. There were three more pointing their guns to Moriarty and five more surrounding them.

“You with him?” one of the men asked pointing to Moriarty. John vehemently shook his head, his heart beating out of control already stressed from escaping Mycroft.

“John, the man in front of you has a wound on his wrist.” Sherlock whispered next to him and John’s head swivelled over to find the detective’s eyes skimming the situation. “The man holding Moriarty is the boss. The rest are just amateur paid by the hour men. Ask why Moriarty is here and while the man in front of you, his name is Tim by the way, and has a lovely wife, is distracted, swing up on his wrist and take his gun when he drops it and shoot the man to the farthest right and the boss. The others will disperse once their leaders are taken out.”

All this was said in seconds, and John was so deep in his panic, he didn’t bother trying to refuse.

“Why is he here?” John asked, jutting his chin out in the direction of Moriarty, and the criminal mastermind raised an eyebrow.

Like Sherlock said, the man in front of him turned his head to the boss, and John knocked the gun out of his grasp and shot the boss and the one to the farthest right. One of the men closest to John turned to shoot him, but John knocked his gun out of the way and barrelled into him, causing the man to knock himself unconscious with the wall behind him.

The other men ran off and John turned to Sherlock who was laughing.

“That was brilliant, John!”

“I didn’t think that would actually work.” John laughed as Sherlock rolled his eyes. They were interrupted by a slow clapping and  
John cursed as he realized he had forgotten all about Moriarty.

“Johnnie boy, that was quite the thinking.” Jim smirked as he stepped closer to John. The soldier raised his gun, eyes wide with fear. “Or should I see Sherlock’s?”

“What- How?”

Jim giggled as he took another step towards John and John looked to where Sherlock had been standing last but found empty space. The prick only came when he wanted to.

“I was told that you were going crazy, but I think the correct phrase would be,” He licked his lips, “mentally enhanced. Just look at you. Thinking like a true genius, but you don’t think it’s you, do you? You think it’s Sherlock, and it is but isn’t.”

“Shut up.” John shouted, closing his eyes as a headache started coming on.

The next second he was being pinned to a wall by a slim figure, gun knocked from his hand and his mouth covered by a hand.

“Tsk. Tsk, John.” Jim scolded playfully. “Can’t have the neighbours thinking something’s wrong can we?” He smiled and leaned closer until their lips were mere inches apart, breath mingling with John’s ragged one. His fingers caressed John’s cheek.

“I think I like you better this way. You’re almost on Sherlock’s and my level, not quite, but close enough. You’re fun.”

With that, the criminal mastermind swirled around and opened the door of the black car that had pulled up at some point. He paused halfway to the door.

“Schizophrenia can be amusing sometimes.” Jim winked. “The game’s afoot.”

 

With that, the car zoomed off, leaving John leaning against the alley wall, pale faced and with a card Moriarty had slid into his hand.


	2. Plastic Containers of Lifeless Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes home and encounters some guests, some expected, others from long before

After a while of trying to process what had happened, John shook his head and walked home, leaving the crime scene behind. He pulled out his cell phone and texted Greg Lestrade the location. Why would Jim Moriarty want to “play” with him? He wasn’t that smart; Sherlock had done all the thinking.

He sighed as he walked up the stairs and almost jumped as he heard the floor creaking on the floor above him. Someone was here.

His hand searched for the gun he had used at just a few minutes ago, heart pounding, and he slowly walked up the steps, gun ready in hand. Why was everything happening today?

As he neared the door, Sherlock appeared out of nowhere, gun ready in hand also. He motioned for John to come closer as he looked into the room.

“It’s not a burglar, they opened the door with a key, but who else has the key to the house besides me?” Sherlock whispered, and John frowned. The only other person was Ms. Hudson and she was out with one of her friends in the country. Had she been forced to give it to them? A moment of choking panic filled him with the thought of Ms. Hudson beaten up or worse killed.

“John, focus. Who else would have the key? Think.” He tapped his head with two fingers. John struggled to connect the pieces before his eyes suddenly widened.

“Mycroft.”

 

Sherlock nodded and raised his gun ready.

John pushed open the door and in Sherlock’s chair was Mycroft who had his cellphone in his hand. Before John could sneak back out, Mycroft sighed.

“Where are you going, John Watson?”

The ex-soldier pursed his lips and closed the door. He knew how this conversation would go down. It was a repeat of all the previous ones.

“Come sit with me.”

John gritted his teeth but was stopped from doing anything too violent by Sherlock’s hand on his shoulder.

With a sigh, he entered the living room and stood across from Mycroft who was currently sitting in Sherlock's chair. Sherlock huffed at his brother and made himself comfortable on the couch, his feet crossed at the ankle. The blond pursed his lips at the sociopath who raised a challenging eyebrow as if daring him to do something about it. They had talked about putting his feet on the couch after John had spent an entire day cleaning off the dirt.

“You can see him right now.” Mycroft lifted an eyebrow not even trying to pose it as a question. His keen eyes had followed all of John's movements and John kept a straight face.

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you take your medicine today?”

“Because I know you're in league with him.” His voice wavered. After all the excitement, his mind was too exhausted to form any of those fear gripping thoughts he had heard earlier.

“With Moriarty, John?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” John hissed, mind racing back to the maniac's giggles in the alley. Mycroft raised an eyebrow, eerily reminding him of Sherlock.

“You've seen him.”

“It was a coincidence,” John said in defense.

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed and he took out a container from his pocket and put it on the arm of his chair. With a side glance, John knew exactly what it was and he scowled as he looked down at the floor.

“I know you think this is Sherlock, but it's not,” Mycroft said gently. “My brother is dead, buried in the cemetery.” He stood up coolly and brushed invisible lint off of himself and looked up at John. His cold calculating eyes scouring him. “You need to take your medication again. I would like to do this the easy way.”

“Or what you'll force me to take them?” John scowled angrily.

“If that's what it'll take,” Mycroft replied. “As much as you think that I hated my brother and, by association, you, I never did. You are the only thing my brother seemed to care about in the days before his death and that makes you important to me. I won't allow you to hurt yourself in this way.”

“But…” John looked down at the innocent plastic container, scowling,” the medicine. It's so dragging. Everything feels so lifeless.” John clenched his fist.

“It's for your own good, John,” Mycroft said sympathetically.

Before he could fit in a word edgewise, there was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and Mycroft raised an eyebrow in John's direction.

“Expecting anyone, my good doctor?”

John frowned and his hand instantly went to the gun he had put down.

“It's a man. The steps are too heavy to be a woman and they mean to hurt someone if we take into account the speed at which they're coming up.” Sherlock said, swinging his feet to be parallel to the ground. “They're a hired assassin with deadly experience. Their footsteps are calculated and if it weren't for your trained ear, you wouldn't hear them.”

“This person means to harm one of us,” John said, standing up and leveling his gun towards the door, safety off. “Mycroft, there's a gun next to Sherlock's skull behind the mantelpiece. Grab it.”

Mycroft waved a hand and clicked a button on his umbrella and the handle piece fell out into his hand and it turned out to be a mini pistol.

The door opened and John's eyes widened in surprise as he saw who it was. Sebastian Moran. The only thing that had changed about him was the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and the years of experience that showed in the casual way he held his gun. The last time John had seen him was when he was signing him off to be shipped back to London for better care than he had. The only reason he remembered him was that Moran had been the first person to ask for his name out on the field and to actually try and talk with John outside of their duties. 

 

“Sebastian?” John’s voice was incredulous and half of him wanted to get close to see if this was another one of his illusions. He shook his head with a scowl and turned to Mycroft who was looking at John with an interested look on his face. “Mycroft, do you see a blond man right now?”

 

“I assure you, John, that you are not imagining 1st Lieutenant Sebastian Moran.” The older Holmes said with a steady voice, like if he was talking about what was going to be for dinner. “The only question is why he is in your apartment.”

 

Sebastian kept his gun pointed to Mycroft and turned to John, although none of them thought for a second that he wasn’t monitoring every move Mycroft was making. Despite the weapon in his hand, Sebastian was still offering John a small grin. The familiarity and warmth, despite making John confused as to where it was coming from, also called out something in him that had been hungry for affection since Sherlock’s death.

 

“I was sent by Moriarty to come and collect John Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowzer, it's been a while, so please forgive the change in style, etc. I hope you continue to read and comment. I've decided to update stories by oldest comments. So, of course, this was one that is, um, rather old. Anyways, thanks for reading! Please comment if you want to see more! :)


	3. Moran and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes with Moran

"I'm afraid you're going to have to return empty handed. Mr. Watson is unfortunately preoccupied at the time." Mycroft sent a tight smile towards the assassin and Sebastian returned an equally cold and fake smile. Old John wouldn't have hesitated to shoot Sebastian, regardless of old connections. Anything that was a harm to others would immediately be neutralized. Current John however was riddled with doubts and paranoia of who was working for who.

Sebastian had confirmed that he was working for Moriarty and yet Mycroft, who John had originally thought was working for the criminal seemed to be opposing the idea of letting John go. This could only mean one thing. 

The government wanted to get rid of him. This was worse than a single person. The whole of the British government wanted to wipe him from the face of the Earth and they had sent Mycroft  to make sure that the job was done. John could feel his breath catch in his throat and he took a step away from both of them. 

"Take a deep breath, John." Sherlock said next to him. The ex-soldier struggled to follow the order. "And think carefully, "If the British government wants you dead, you must know something that they don't want you to know. And we know, we can't let Moriarty get his hands on that either. I must've planted something in your subconscious before I faked my death." Sherlock mused as he walked behind Mycroft and Sebastian. "Dearest brother seems to be genuinely concerned about your wellbeing, but we both know how adept he is at mixing business and pleasure." His cold blue eyes turned to Sebastian. "And your fellow soldier...it's no coincidence that he was the one to bring you in. He wants to lull you into a sense of comradeship, of nostalgia, of more familiar times. But why would Moriarty want to do that?"

"Watson, make this easier on yourself and come with me. I'm sure that if everything runs smoothly, you will return." Sebastian shrugged. "I promise that you will be safe throughout. Consider it a payback for saving my life." 

"John, do not go with this man." Mycroft protested, his grip tightening on the pistol in his hand. "We both know that James Moriarty is nothing but a criminal and a liar. He only wishes to play games with your mind."

"And you just want to dull it to the point of uselessness." John shot back, a sudden flare of anger rising in him. "I'm tired of feeling like this, Mycroft. Maybe...maybe it would be best to go. If I die, then it's a better fate than what you would want for me." 

Mycroft's face twitched and he took three quick strides to John, wrapping him in an unexpected hug. There was one hand settled in John's hair and another on his waist, arms tight around him. 

"John, don't let my brother's death be in vain." He said softly, and before he could question it, Mycroft was swirling around, shooting at the kidnapper who avoided the bullet with a smooth movement. In less the same movement, he swirled around, kicking the older Holmes in the head. 

Mycroft hit the wall and fell unconscious. John rushed to his side and turned to admonish Sebastian, but then he realized rather acutely that he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

"I already said I was going," John bit out. "Unless you were lying about not killing me?" The other man's lip quirked up in a grin at John's familiar tone, and he brought the gun down and offered his hand. With only a moment of hesitance where John cast a glance at Mycroft, he took the hand offered to him. Hauled to his feet, John cast another glance around the flat, almost like if he was trying to commit it to memory. It was like if something in him was saying that he wasn't coming back. 

Sherlock came from his room and threw himself across the couch, stomach down and feet perched on the arm of the couch. He waved a dismissive hand to John and said, "Make sure to bring some more tea, John; we're running low."

John made a humming noise and turned on his heel, leaving the flat.

* * *

 

The car he was led out to was extravagant and sleek. Sebastian hadn't said a word until they were inside the car, which was as equally flamboyant on the inside as it was on the outside. John seated himself across his kidnapper.

"I didn't think you would come honestly." Sebastian said, crossing his legs. It was now that John took note of the rather professional attire he had on. A black suit that was strangely reminiscent of his boss's, and a rather well hidden gun belt. John let his eyes travel up to his neck and wondered where those scars had come from. He turned back to the window.

"Well, I did. That's all that matters, right?" John replied gruffly. "Following the boss's orders and all." There was a shift of movement and was surprised to see Sebastian leaning forward with a frown on his face.

"Watson, I promise this isn't just some order. You saved my life." Moran's face was strangely dispassionate, but it was something that John remembered he did. "I won't disobey a direct order by Mr. Moriarty, but where I can help you, I will." And there it was. That tone of voice that only soldiers who had gone through war together had. Something in John clicked at hearing the tone and it must've shown on his face because Sebastian settled back into the seat. 

The silence wasn't uncomfortable between them, but John couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. 

Why did Moriarty want him? Was he hoping to replace Sherlock with him? He doubted it. The two of them had always been on some other level. Playing on a gameboard that was always shifting and changing, his position on it, always changing. What was he now, without a Sherlock by his side?

"What does Moriarty want with me?" 

"I don't know." Sebastian shrugged. 

That wasn't very helpful, and it caused John's insides to twist painfully. What was he doing? Why was he walking into the wide jaws of the enemy? Maybe it was because the idea of living life in such a dull, sluggish way was more horrific than death by the hand of a criminal mastermind. 

The months that he had spent, dutifully taking his medication had been the worst of his life. The urge to find something to do with his life had disappeared, and everything seemed to be monotone and boring. He would go to work and come back home only to lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling. He didn't want to visit any of his friends or do anything. There were some days that he thought about taking Lestrade up on his offer to consult, but it would dissipate by the time he reached the phone.

"Are you okay?" Sebastian asked haltingly. The question struck John as weird.

"Why do you care, Moran?" John asked. "I saved your life because I was the doctor working at that time. It could've been any of the doctors there." Sebastian gave him a weird look.

"Watson, I'm talking about the first time. Not that I'm not grateful for saving my life that last time, but you disobeyed a direct order to abandon the area. You stopped, pulled me up, and dragged me all the way back to the car. It would've been our second raid, I believe." Sebastian said intensely. "How can you not remember?"

"Everything was very rushed and happening very quickly. I had completely forgotten about that." John said in his defense. "I... I don't remember what happened to you. I didn't even see your face, Moran." 

Sebastian nodded. "And that's why I'm grateful to you. You stopped and saved my life when everyone else kept going." The car stopped, bringing their conversation to a close. "Come on. Mr. Moriarty is waiting."

John looked up and out of the window, his eyes widening at the sight of the mansion. On the porch, there was a single swing seat and on it, lounging was London's most feared criminal...sleeping.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that I've no idea what I'm doing? I hope you enjoyed! Comment down below anything you want to see or like or whatever honestly. Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests of what you want to see in the story please leave a comment. Thanks.


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